


Stand Under My

by piratesquared



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratesquared/pseuds/piratesquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's raining and the crime scene is dead. Sherlock gets hold of Mycroft's umbrella, then proceeds to warm John up under it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Under My

John blinked up at the house, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to protect himself from the pouring rain. He saw Sherlock stomping about by the front door, having thrown himself under the police tape as soon as they arrived. Lestrade strolled over to John and shot him an apologetic smile. 

"You know, you could just wait in the car?" 

John shrugged, "You know how he gets if I disappear." 

Lestrade glanced back at Sherlock, now in some sort of glare off with Donovan. "I better go save him, err - save her?"

John smirked, "just separate them." 

Lestrade took a wearily sigh and left for Sherlock. A few heated words between the three of them and Sherlock was quickly on his way over to John. His coat splayed out on the wind and sent water flying from the tips.  
His face held a look of absolute thunder when he reached John, nestled tightly between his tightly fastened collar and his soaked hair, curling down closer to his eyes then usual. "Bloody Donovan..." He glanced at John then did a double take, his eyes quickly swept over the length of his body, "You're soaked!" 

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead hugging his body tighter. 

"You must be froze."  
"You're on the ball today Sherlock," he winced as the words left his mouth, "Sorry, just ... yeah. Cold." 

Sherlock stepped up close to the tape, reaching out to pull John nearer. "It's this damn coat," he muttered, running his hands up and down John's arms, "it's practically worn away, I keep telling you to replace it." 

"I can't afford to, remember?"  
Sherlock glanced around them before dropping his voice, "You could share mine?" 

John blinked, "What Sherlock, no! In front of Lestrade, in front of all of them?! No. Not a chance." 

"Fine," Sherlock sniffed, looking out over the top of John's head, "be cold, it was just an idea." 

John sighed, "In any other situation, I would be dying to get under your coat, but I don't want to give Lestrade anymore staff fights to sort out today."

Sherlock smirked, glancing behind him he caught Donovan's eye, she fumed as he smiled brightly and both men laughed as she flounced off, a mistimed step managing to soak Anderson in the process. 

Sherlock's smile fell as he remembered John's shivering, if he didn't do something soon John would get ill, and that would be really annoying. He was looking around them desperately searching for an answer when he felt a shiver trickle down his spine. He turned slowly and huffed as he saw that familiar black car pull up. 

He rolled his eyes, "Typical, should have guessed we were waiting for him." 

"Who? Isn't that Mycroft?" 

Sherlock sneered as his brother stepped out of the car, he was about to launch into one of his usual rants about Mycroft's needless presence when he saw Mycroft's assistant hold out his beloved umbrella over his head. Everything clicked into place in Sherlock's' head, "Wait here," he said over his shoulder to John, already heading in his brother's direction. John just frowned, Sherlock usually headed in the complete opposite direction at the mere mention of Mycroft.  
"Mycroft!" He tuned at the sound of Sherlock and smiled that slightly pained smile that somehow always came out around him. 

"Little brother," he said in way of greeting, "What a surprise to see you here," 

"Could have said the same thing to you," Sherlock muttered, eyeing Mycroft's umbrella with interest.  
"Yes, dreadful business, I might let you know sometime."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow to him, suggesting that Mycroft would definitely be letting him know every detail later, "You're the reason they won't let us in, then?" 

"Afraid so, been waiting long?" He took in his brother's soaked coat and sodden hair, so perfectly framing the scowl on his face and glanced over at John. 

"Oh dear. Your little Doctor doesn't seem to be fairing too well at all. You really should take better care of him, Sherlock." 

Sherlock followed his gaze to where he had left John, his arms now wrapped tightly around himself as he stared at the house. Sherlock felt an unhappy thump in his guts at the sight and turned back to Mycroft, "Well that's your bloody fault, we've been stuck out here for ages." 

"Yes awfully sorry about that, Peruvian state troubles are such a bother." He flinched as Sherlock's interest peaked, "anyway. You don't need to know about that." The scowl returned. "You do realise right now Sherlock, that you are the one holding me up?" 

Sherlock huffed, "You distracted me."  
"Didn't think it was possible."  
"Fine!" Sherlock made to very maturely stomp away but remembered his original reason for going to Mycroft in the first place.  
"Say Mycroft, are you going to be in there long?" 

Mycroft looked suspicious, "Possibly. Why?" 

Sherlock shrugged, "well I was thinking, you don't want to take your umbrella in there with you, do you? Dripping water everywhere, contaminating the crime scene..."  
Mycroft wasn't fooled for a second, "you want it for John, don't you?"  
"You did say I need to take better care of him." 

Mycroft rolled his eyes but turned to his PA, who had been tapping away one handed through the whole conversation and muttered something to her, Sherlock looked over at John, giving a small smile as he caught his eye. John looked slightly confused, but smiled back. He looked back at his brother, just time to hear, "...and my brother has kindly offered to take care of the umbrella until then." Anthea just shrugged, Mycroft nodded to Sherlock, "I want it back."  
Sherlock sighed, "of course, what do you take me for?" 

Mycroft stared at him for a moment then stepped into the house, Anthea waiting until he was in the dry before thrusting the umbrella at Sherlock and following him inside. Sherlock waited until they disappeared before practically bounding over to John. As John was staring at his feet he didn't notice Sherlock move, and frowned as the raining suddenly stopped falling on him. Looking up he saw Sherlock smiling down at him, and Mycroft's umbrella being held over his head.  
"Better?"  
John smiled, "Getting there, still cold though."  
"You're never happy are you, I had to be nice to Mycroft for this." 

John looked at Sherlock's face but relaxed at the look of affection it showed. Sherlock gazed around them for a solution and spotted an alleyway running down the side of the house. "Come with me." Sherlock said suddenly, grabbing John's arm.  
"what-"  
"Idea!"  
"Bloody hell Sherlock, slow down!" 

Sherlock took no notice, tugging John along behind him until they rounded the side of the house.  
"Sherlock?" He turned to face John, smiling before pushing him backwards, John landing on with a damp slap against the wall. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" Sherlock stepped in close, holding the umbrella low over their heads. 

"I'm warming you up, remember?" Sherlock started unbuttoning his coat with his free hand. "Here, hold this," John took the umbrella as it was thrust at him, watching as Sherlock undid his coat. He held it open by the buttons and looked up at John, "well?" 

"I already told you, no!"  
Sherlock sighed, "No, you said 'not in front of Anderson!', I don't see him here do you? In fact, John, I don't see anybody." 

John's jaw tightened for a moment, but then Sherlock looked up at him through damp lashes and he melted, giving a short nod as Sherlock grinned, stepping up off the wall to be engulfed in Sherlock's great overcoat. 

John bloody loved Sherlock's coat. 

He snuggled down into Sherlock's chest, Sherlock taking the umbrella from him as John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, burying his face into Sherlock's shoulder and under the lapels. Sherlock just clung to John for a while, his free hand rubbing a comforting pattern up and down his back. He could feel John warming up, body heat building up against his chest through his suit jacket. Sherlock's hand slid up to John's hair, fingers tangling in the still wet strands, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to his temple. A shudder ran down John's back as Sherlock's hand massaged his scalp, pressing up against Sherlock's body. Sherlock smiled to himself and made his movements more purposeful, fingers scratching the most delicious feeling through his skin. Sherlock kissed John's hair again, slipping his fingers down to the base of his skull, a slight pressure made John tip his head back, "mm," John was cut off as Sherlock took advantage of the new angle and pressed his mouth to John's. John groaned at the warmth that spread through him as he opened his mouth to Sherlock's. 

It was as if the other man was pushing pure heat into John's mouth, coaxing the fire to caress around with his tongue before sending it down and off throughout his body. John felt it burn down his throat, spreading out in his chest and warming him from within before curling around his belly and then slipping lower still, only to mix with a distinctly different fire that was steadily building in the pit of John's stomach. He moaned as he felt Sherlock start to pull away, hands clinging to his hips as John tried to get closer to the heat, never wanting to be cold again. The hand now holding John's neck gave a gentle squeeze and John reluctantly broke away, dropping back down onto his feet but still pressed inside Sherlock's coat. "This is why I think breathing is dull." Sherlock muttered, John laughing quietly into Sherlock's coat.  
John took a couple of steps back, letting himself fall gently back against the wall. 

"Feeling better?"  
"Much." 

He smiled, relaxed against the bricks and reached out his hand to Sherlock. He gladly stepped forward, his free hand coming to settle at John's hip. Their lips met again and John's hands trailed up Sherlock's chest and looped around his neck. Sherlock slowly moved his hand around, running it over John's thigh before slipping it through the gap between his legs. John moaned, pressing up against Sherlock as he unconsciously spread his legs. Sherlock rubbed a firm pattern against him, and John broke away from his mouth to utter, 

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" 

"I still don't think you're warm enough John," Sherlock pitched his voice low, knowing full well the effect it had on John. "I don't think you're warm enough at all..."  
John whined as Sherlock's hand returned to it's rhythm between his legs, Sherlock dipped his head to John's ear, "Let me warm you up John, I want to warm you up, let me make you hot John..." John almost collapsed as Sherlock's words were punctuated by him licking a solid line from the base of his neck up, finishing just under his ear and flicking his tongue at the lobe as he pulled away. 

"Ugh, Sherlock," Sherlock smirked at John's lack of coherency, coming back into view he saw John biting his lip and leaned in to suck the lip into his mouth, pushing his thigh against John's crotch. John's hand flew to the back of Sherlock's head, pulling him into a deep kiss. John spread his legs wide, and all but rutted against Sherlock's leg. Sherlock managed to grip John's hip with his free hand, calming him somewhat. His hand slipped over to John's crotch again, a tut as he struggled with his fly. 

"Ugh...John." 

John lifted his head, "Mm?"  
"You'll have to open them." 

He waved the umbrella and John smirked, dropping his hands from Sherlock's shoulders to the fly on his jeans. He;d barely got them down to his thighs when Sherlock's hand dived in his underwear, gripping him tightly and making John's head smack back against the wall. Sherlock stared at him sheepishly as John rubbed the back of his head. 

"Ow."  
"Sorry." 

John frowned at Sherlock, but took a hold of his hips and pulled him close again. Sherlock swapped the umbrella to his right hand, stretching his arm out before curling it around John's shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. His hand slipped down over John's back as their lips met again, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of John's boxers, a shudder ran through John as Sherlock's fingers, cold from holding the umbrella still in the air, whispered over his hipbone before dipping down to grasp him again. John groaned as Sherlock's cool fingers resumed their earlier pace, rubbing John off in his hand with steady practiced strokes. John tugged at Sherlock's clothes, pulling him close so their lips could meet in short breathy open mouthed kisses. John's hand soon trailed lower, fumbling with Sherlock's trousers before opening them enough to free Sherlock from his underwear, a sharp cry broke from Sherlock's mouth as his painful arousal received some much needed attention.  
The need of one caused him to speed up his actions on the other, and soon they were franticly working at each other, hands moving swiftly on each others' members as they both chased their own release by bringing pleasure to each other. 

John's head fell back again, moaning loudly as Sherlock brought him to the brink, thrusting his hips to try and drive Sherlock's hand around him harder. Sherlock took the hint, leaning against John as John's grip on him faltered, Sherlock rested his weight on his knuckles against the wall, ignoring the dull pain as the umbrella handle was crushed in his palm. He leaned in close, pressing their cocks together and rubbing them both off in his hand, thrusting into the delicious friction created between John's member and his fingers. He could feel how close John was, could feel his body becoming tighter, he raised his head, brushing his nose against John's. John opened his eyes and Sherlock held his gaze for a minute before giving his cock a particularly rough tug, leaning in at the same time to bite John's bottom lip. The mix of sensations was too much for John and he came hard, back arching up off of the wall as he loudly voiced his release, hips thrusting uncontrolled as he rode it out. John's cock twitching against his pushed Sherlock over the edge, barely thinking to cover the head of his cock as he came all over his hand, narrowly missing John's trousers.  
He gazed down at his hand, a mix of both his and John's release covered his palm. John opened his eyes and followed Sherlock's haze downward, spotting the mess. 

"Oh bloody - sorry."  
Sherlock met his eyes with a smirk, "It's alright, it's not all yours."  
John winced, "What are we going to do about it?" 

Sherlock looked around, be too obvious on their clothes and there was no way in hell it was going anywhere near his coat. He looked out around them again and would've face-palmed at his own stupidly if his hand wasn't, quite frankly, disgusting. 

"Sherlock?" 

He glanced at John then took a hold of his own stained hand, holding them both both out into the rain. They watched transfixed as their hands were slowly cleaned by the rain, skin returning to normal as the chill seeped under their skin, wrapping around their insides and cooling the lingering fire left over from their orgasms. Slowly they dropped their arms, Sherlock flexing the one still holding the umbrella and wincing slightly as his shoulder gave an uneasy crack. He moved close to John, nuzzling their lips together as John found Sherlock's hips, quickly fastening him back up before tucking himself away, and snuggling back up inside Sherlock's coat. Sherlock rubbed at his arm but dropped it to pull John close, what was a little muscle ache when he had a content and very warm (and most importantly, mostly dry) John pressed up against him? 

They stood there for a while, happy in their quiet, sated states, listening to the rain finally begin to ease off. Soon enough though their peace was shattered as Lestrade's voice reached them. 

"Oi, Sherlock!" 

Sherlock closed his eyes against his name, wishing to do nothing more then push his face into John's damp messy hair and forget about the whole bloody case. But his hopes were dashed as John pulled back. 

"Suppose we should see what they want," he mumbled as Sherlock's arm slipped from his shoulders. John stretched, his eyes flicking over Mycroft's umbrella, "You can take that back too," 

At this Sherlock's mood improved dramatically, and he lowered the umbrella, the rain having trailed off to a faint drizzle, quickly folding it up and spinning around. 

"Come along then, John!" 

He strode off, leaving John to quickly attempt to make himself look like he hadn't just been thoroughly fucked, then jogged to catch up with Sherlock. He all but limbo-ed under the police tape and sauntered up to the front of the house where Lestrade was waiting for him. 

"Where the hell did you get to?" 

He glanced from Sherlock to John as he caught up to them, and shook his head at their expressions, "You know what don't tell me, just get in there will you? Mycroft's been asking for you for ages." 

Sherlock smirked at Lestrade and disappeared into the house, John at least had the good grace to look faintly embarrassed, quickly stepping past him and after Sherlock. Greg just sighed and looked for someone to shout at.  
Mycroft raised his head as Sherlock entered, gaze flickering to his umbrella, tucked casually under Sherlock's arm. 

"What on Earth kept you?" John entered the room, "Oh. Never mind." 

John frowned and looked away, still not entirely comfortable with just how much Mycroft could tell about him from a single look, especially if it surrounded his and Sherlock's relationship. 

"Well, I'm here now."  
"Yes... Though I'm afraid all the juicy bits have been solved, while you were ah, 'attending to your Doctor'" 

John visibly squirmed and Sherlock gave him a subtle glance, flexing his fingers towards him in a silent sign of support. 

"Oh I'm sure I'll find something Mycroft, you know how people are for forgetting once they reach middle age after all." 

Mycroft flinched and the smirk was back on Sherlock's face. 

"Yes well, enjoy your 'youth' brother, it's not that far off for you either." 

He crossed the room in three quick strides, "Now. As I can see that your dear John is, well, more then warmed up, I would very much appreciate you giving it me back."  
Sherlock's eyes widened innocently as John tried to control the blush he knew was forming on his face. "Sorry, Brother, I don't quite follow." 

Mycroft stuck out his hand, "Stop it, give it to me." 

Sherlock moved his arm to grip Mycroft's umbrella in his hand, "I can honestly say, I have no idea what you're talking about." 

Mycroft's jaw tightened and Sherlock delighted in the reaction. 

"The umbrella, Sherlock. Give me my umbrella."  
"Oh! The umbrella, why didn't you say?" 

Sherlock presented it with a flourish, Mycroft snatched it back then straightened up, as if the umbrella was such a part of his being that he could only function properly with it propping him up. Mycroft opened his umbrella, eyeing it with suspicion as he checked it was okay. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "for God's sake we didn't do anything to your precious umbrella." 

Mycroft's eyes narrowed briefly, but he lovingly tucked the umbrella away and swung it down by his leg, tapping it once off the ground. "Well, I shall leave this in your, hmm, capable hands," Sherlock's back straightened at the slur and John inwardly sighed, the two were so bloody childish sometimes, Mycroft stared at Sherlock for a moment before Anthea stepped up next to him, he nodded to John as he turned to leave 

"Lovely to see you John, as always. Sherlock, I'll be in touch."  
"Don't feel like you have to." Sherlock muttered under his breath, but followed it up with a cheery "Pleasure Mycroft, as ever!" 

It was worth it for Mycroft's faltering step at the door, before his shoulders flexed and he disappeared from view, leaving the two alone in the room.  
Sherlock moved over to John, who sighed at the smile on his face. 

"What?"  
"I give up with you two."  
Sherlock's smile didn't waver, "Yeah, well only I get to make you flush like that." 

Sherlock took in John's rumpled clothes, his fluffy-from-the-rain hair and the slight flush still marking his cheeks. "Seems like everything's been done here though."  
"What? You usually love to unpick all Mycroft's work." 

Sherlock shrugged, "Not in the mood. In fact, I rather fancy a shower," he trailed his fingers up John's arm, "for the chill, you know. Wouldn't you agree, Doctor?" 

A truly delicious smile formed on John's lips. "Oh yes. We should get out of these wet clothes immediately. I'm sure Lestrade will call with anything important." 

"I'm sure he would." The two smiled widely before heading outside as Sherlock tried to convince one of the police cars to rush them home.  
Well, their health was at stake after all.


End file.
